


Pell and John

by willhenreeeee



Category: The Monstrumologist Series - Rick Yancey
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willhenreeeee/pseuds/willhenreeeee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I really enjoy imagining Pell and John as teenagers (when they were actually friends), and I decided to write some one-shots about them. Originally I planned on lacing in some of the rifts in their relationship later on, but decided against it. This fandom deserves nice happy things, dammit. Or well. It could be sad if you think about what happens to them too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bean Tea

A cold November wind whipped through the city, biting through John’s clothes and making him feel numb. When he got back to the brownstone, he was certain that he’d immediately throw himself into the fireplace. Becoming kindling would be an efficient way to defrost. However, once he got to the door, all those thoughts left his head. Standing in the already open doorway was a burly, frightening man, with calloused hands and eyes that had been dead for at least 20 years. They stared at eachother for a moment.

“Pardon me,” the man said gruffly.

He shoved his way past John, who looked like a flower stem with eyes, by comparison.

John swore to himself and went inside, peeling off his shoes and coat as he dashed into the parlor. Von Helrung and his wife were cuddled up together on the couch, sipping tea and joking with each other in German.

“Oh, Johnny!” said Frau Helrung, standing up to greet him. “I was starting to get worried. Ach, look at you, your face is even redder than your hair!”

She put her hands on his cheeks, and he nearly flinched at how hot they felt.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“Who?” von Helrung replied, furrowing his brow.

“The man that just left.”

“Oh, that was a locksmith!” said von Helrung. “I hired him to fix the lock on Pellinore’s door. You know how he complains. Besides, it’s been broken for years. Better now than never, as they say!”

John frowned.

“But why does Pell care?”

Von Helrung shrugged. “I suppose he’s tired of you barging in there and pestering him at all hours. And hiding the organs and other such things under his bed sheets. Things I need for my research, might I add?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, in my defense, it’s hilarious,” John said.

“Oh, you little brat!” Frau Helrung laughed, slapping him on the arm.

For a small woman, she was rather strong, and John nearly fell over.

“And I’m certain he hasn’t forgiven you for the bean incident last month,” added von Helrung.

“I have no regrets.”

“You should apologize anyway,” said Frau Helrung, taking on a scolding tone. “The poor dear already felt uncomfortable in public, and you made it worse! He rarely leaves the house now, let alone his room.”

“He was talking with that locksmith, though,” said von Helrung. “I consider that a success. You know how he hates to talk to strangers.”

“Ah, yes, I agree!” Frau Helrung said, beaming. “I am so proud! I did tell him that, but he gave me a look that was… ach, if looks could kill!”

She laughed loudly, as did her husband.

“He gives me that look all the time! Why, you’d swear it’s just his face!”

They laughed even louder.

John escaped upstairs and ran to Pell’s room. He tried to open the door, and instead of popping open after a bit of a push as it did before, it held tight. He sighed and started to pound on it.

“Pell! Come on, open up! PELL!”

There was no response.

“Pell, I know you’re in there, you always are. Talk to me!”

He heard the slow scrape of a chair, and apprehensive footsteps coming towards the door.

“What do you want?”

“Let me in!”

“Why should I?” said Pellinore. “For all I know, you’re just going to pull another one of your disgusting pranks.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Are you joking?”

“...Alright, look, I promise I won’t do anything, Pell. I don’t have anything, I swear!”

There were several clicks, and the door opened just wide enough that he could see a big brown eye peering out at him.

“You swear?”

“On my mother’s grave!”

“Your mother isn’t dead.”

“ _Yet_.”

“That’s an ominous thing to say.”

Pellinore opened up more so part of his face could be seen, but the door was stopped short by a gold chain.

“A chain?! Are you kidding?! I thought the man only fixed the original lock!”

“Shhh,” Pellinore hissed. “I had a few more added for good measure.”

“Wh- wha… how many did you add!?”

“Five.”

“Five?! Have you gone mad!?”

Pellinore shrugged.

John quieted down a bit and leaned in closer. “How did you even pay for those? Did you steal money from _Meister_ Abram?”

“No! No, I would never steal from him, or ever in general! I used money my father sent me.”

“Your father sends you money? I thought he doesn’t talk to you.”

“He doesn’t, but he sends me checks sometimes. The only reason I know it’s him is because they’re sent from my address.”

“So you spent lord knows how much of it on five locks. Isn’t that a little excessive?”

“I’m taking all the necessary precautions.”

“What? Are you afraid the maid will catch you masturbating?”

Pellinore blushed furiously. “Wh-what!? No! I don’t- SHUT UP, JOHN!”

“See? I can still bother you through the door, you don’t even have to let me in.”

“All I ask is for you to leave me alone sometimes, and you never listen! So I obtained a way to make sure you do! Now go away, I have to study.”

Pellinore shut the door in John’s face.

“By God, you’re such a little… let me in!”

“No.”

“Come on, Pell!”

“No!”

“Pellie?”

“Go away.”

“Pellisnore? Pellibore? Pelican Warthog? Pineapple Whisking?”

“Sure, I’ll open the damn door… THEN SLAM IT SHUT RIGHT ON YOUR FINGERS!”

“Just let me in, Pell!”

This time, there was no response. John slid to the floor and leaned against the door.

“I’m not going away until you let me in…!”

Still, Pellinore didn’t reply.

“...Are you alright in there?”

Quiet.

“Pell? Seriously, are you trying to ignore me or something? Because it isn’t working. I’ll have you know that I can be very patient when needed be!”

John strained to hear. There wasn’t the scratching of a pencil, or the tapping of a foot. He couldn’t even hear Pellinore breathing.

“Pellinore! Seriously, this isn’t funny.”

John turned around. “Pell! Hey, Pell, come on! PELL?!”

He laid down on his stomach, and looked through the gap, only to see Pellinore staring back at him.

“PELL?! JESUS!”

Pellinore laughed.

“I thought you had dropped dead for a second!”

“You’re not patient John, but I am. I expected you to get bored and leave… were you really so concerned about me? I was only silent for a minute.”

“...Open the door.”

“No.”

“What do you want from me?! I know it’s not just about me annoying you!”

“Actually, it has everything to do with that. You’re very mean.”

“Are you really going to be a child about it?”

“I don’t know how I’m being a child, I merely want you to treat me with respect.”

“But this is how ALL friends act!”

“Who said that we’re friends?! You’re horrid to me, you say and do disgusting things, you publicly humiliate me whenever you have the chance, you leave buckets of blood and formaldehyde above my door, you put a heart in my pillow yesterday, and let us not forget what you did to me at the last society meeting-”

“Alright, alright, I get the point!”

“Good. Now, as I requested before, please leave. I still have much writing to do.”

“Von Helrung didn’t assign us any writing…”

Pellinore didn’t respond, but he saw him go back to his desk and sit down.

“...Pell… please let me in.... I promise I’ll behave myself, really…. I mean, what’s the point of having the same teacher if we can’t study together?”

Once again, he was ignored. John stood up and sighed.

“Look Pell, I won’t deny any of the things you said… I know I’m rude, and gross, and like to tease you - I mean, let’s be honest, you make it _far_ too easy - but, I do consider you a friend. A brother, almost. And I’m sorry.”

He heard the chair scrape once again, and the door opened slightly.

“What did you say?”

“That I love you like a brother?”

“No, the last thing.”

“Oh… that I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry!”

“You’re….?”

“I’M SORRY THAT I’M AN ASSWIPE TO YOU AND THAT I PUT ORGANS IN YOUR BED AND PUT BEAN PASTE IN YOUR TEA SO THAT YOU FARTED THE WHOLE WHILE YOU WERE TRYING TO GIVE THE DAMN SPEECH EVEN THOUGH IT WAS HYSTERICAL, OKAY?!”

Pellinore grinned and undid the chain, opening the door all the way.

“I heard you the first time, I just wanted to milk it.”

“...I hate you,” said John, but he was smiling too.


	2. Sir Rat Face

“I don’t understand why we have an award ceremony,” said John as he shifted in his seat. “It seems rather pointless. Why can’t we just kill monsters and be done with it?”

“I think you should be honored that we were nominated,” said Pellinore.

“We? No, no, just you. I wasn’t.”

“Ah, yes! Of course. That’s because you can’t even kill _spiders_.”

“Says the one who buys dead moths.”

“Oh yes, allow me just kill and preserve this moth that is native to a country on a completely different continent!”

“Moths are disgusting, anyway.”

“You’re disgusting. You disgust me.”

Von Helrung stepped up onto the stage. His knees had been bothering him lately, so he took his time, causing the men in the room to sigh and fidget in their seats.

“I would now like to announce the nominees for most accomplished new Monstrumological student,” he said. “All of these boys have worked so hard from day one, and even though they still require the guidance of their mentors, have proven themselves to be worthy to sit among their peers, men who have done this for years! We have selected four brilliant young men, and they are Alexander DeMont, Jacob Torrence, Pellinore Warthrop, and… Hiram Walker!”

Pellinore dug his nails into his seat.

“Sir Hiram?” John asked. “Didn’t we go on an expedition with him? I vaguely recall him nearly being killed.”

“Yes,” Pellinore said, “and if he wins, I will be forced to eat every paper I’ve ever written as punishment to myself.”

“You may as well, no one is going to miss them.”

Pellinore pinched his arm.

Von Helrung cleared his throat, and slowly opened the envelope.

“And the winner is… Hiram Walker!”

“WHAT?!” Pellinore cried.

John let out a fit of laughter so strong, he nearly fell out of his seat.

A man older than the other nominees by quite a noticeable amount stepped up, accepting his award with a bright smile.

“Look at him,” said Pellinore. “That rat-faced bastard. It should be me up there!”

“Rat-faced bastard!” John wheezed. “I love it!”

After nearly 15 minutes, Walker blissfully finished his speech and went back down to his seat. The ceremony went on, though now John couldn’t help but giggle every time he glanced at Pellinore, whose expression held an anger so strong that he looked like death in a well-tailored suit.

When the ceremony ended, Pellinore stood up stiffly, and looked down at John.

“I am going to kill him.”

“What? Are you serious?” said John. “I mean, it seems like it’d be nice to put the man out of his misery, but-”

“I. Am going. To kill him.”

“Alright Pell, let’s calm down here for a second. You can’t just go out there and kill him over a hunk of cheap metal! Your expertise cannot be validated by a simple award! You, Pellinore, are the smartest person I have ever met, and will be a damn good Monstrumologist. When the beasts you hunt hear your name, they'll tremble in fear, because they have come to associate you with certain death! You are Pellinore Xavier Warthrop, and though you are only 16 years old, you are already the greatest Monstrumologist the world has ever known!”

“...I don’t care. I still want to kill him.”

“Fine,” John said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I pour my heart and soul into a speech that basically gives your ego the petting of a lifetime, and you completely disregard it! Alright, okay, fine. Go kill him. I don’t care. Hell, I’ll even help you hide the body!”

“Excellent!”

Pellinore left the theater, and John tore after him.

“Wait, you’re not actually serious about this, right?”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“Pell. You can barely make prolonged eye contact with another person, what makes you think you can commit murder?”

“I think I’ll pretend that he’s a rat.”

“And what would Frau Helrung think?”

“I believe she’ll be happy,” said Pellinore. “She doesn’t care for Walker much herself. Did you see the look she gave him at the ball, when he tried to pass himself off as a knight?”

“HA! Yes, I love Frau Helrung’s disgusted face. It’s like…”

He narrowed his eyes and curled his upper lip.

“That’s not a bad impersonation,” Pellinore chuckled.

“Really? That has to be the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

The pair made it to the lobby, where Walker was getting congratulations from several of his peers. Pellinore approached, shoving through the crowd. Walker looked at up at him happily.

“Oh, young Mr. Warthrop, hello! I accept your congratulations-”

“Oh, no, I am not here to compliment you for your… accomplishment,” said Pellinore dryly. “I am here to tell you that if anyone deserved that award, it would be me. Hell, a salamander would be more deserving of it than you. JOHN CHANLER of all people would have been a better choice!”

“I'm right behind you, Pell.”

Walker looked up at the teenaged boy indignantly.

“You selfish, egotistical young man! How dare you! Just because you are von Helrung’s little treasure does NOT mean you get to disrespect the men around you! You do not even deserve to be in my presence!”

“That’s a good point...” John mumbled in Pellinore’s ear.

Pellinore brushed off his friend, getting right in Walker’s face.

“And how dare you act like you’re such a grand scientist yourself! Why, if I recall correctly, John and I had to rescue you last year from the clutches of a beast you claimed to be an expert on!”

“I am, I… I merely made a mistake! And you have absolutely no right to judge me by my past mistakes!”

“I do if you get rewarded for them!”

Dr. Walker, having had enough, punched Pellinore. He wanted to go for the younger man’s face, but since Pellinore had at least eight inches on him, he was forced to go for the gut.

Pellinore grunted and stumbled back, looking absolutely appalled. He looked over at John, who was in absolute shock.

“...I. Am going. To kill him.”

John raised up his hands. “He hit you first, you have an excuse now!”

Pellinore quickly swung back around and clocked Walker in the jaw, which nearly knocked the man over. Naturally, as with all fights in the Monstrumological Society, the nearby men started to fight with each other. Soon the lobby was in absolute mayhem, everyone going straight from a formal event to a free-for-all bareknuckle boxing match. Even some of their escorts joined in (it took a special kind of woman to tolerate a Monstrumologist, and an especially unique kind to embrace them).

Roused by the chaotic noise coming from downstairs, von Helrung dashed his way into the lobby to be met by a scene he would expect only at one of the pre-congressional balls. Used to this (and not afraid to take a punch), he wove his way through the crowd, trying to find the epicenter of the violence. What he found was his best student by far, holding the man they called Sir Hiram Walker in a chokehold as the smaller man beat on his arms. Close by, his decidedly not as successful student was cheering him on.

“OOO, KILL ‘IM!”

“Do _**NOT**_!” von Helrung cried.

Everyone paused. Von Helrung rarely, if ever, raised his voice, even when he was angry.

His two students, their faces flushed, turned to him slowly. Pellinore dropped Dr. Walker like a sack of potatoes, and the man flopped to the floor with a thud. Thankfully, however, he seemed to be alive.

“Words cannot describe how disappointed I am in you right now!” von Helrung cried. “You are better than this, Pellinore, and you know it!”

“But…” Pellinore sucked in a breath, shaking his head. “I deserved that award. Not Sir Hiram!”

“....THIS IS OVER THE AWARD?!” von Helrung cried. He clutched his chest, as if his heart had suddenly seized up on him. “Ach, Pellinore, you are killing me! These awards do not matter, they never did! They are just a fun thing that we do to… give back pats, if you will! In the end, nobody really deserves them! They are just morale builders made of cheap metals!”

“See, what’d I tell you?” said John.

“DO NOT HAVE ME START WITH YOU, JONATHAN!” snapped von Helrung.

John jumped back, almost insulted.

“I’m sorry, Meister Abram,” said Pellinore. “I… I let my anger get the better of me.”

Von Helrung shook his head. “I will discuss this with you later. Right now, I need to lay down. You are lucky I do not call the police!”

He walked away, mumbling under his breath in Austrian.

People in the lobby started to disperse, limping off to treat their wounds, like injured cats. John went over to Pellinore and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Wow, von Helrung actually screamed at us. It would almost be funny if it wasn’t so damned horrifying.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t before, considering what a horrible monster you can be.”

“Don’t be rude,” said John. “You were the one in the wrong this time, not me.”

“...You’re right.”

“Exac!- Wait, what?!”

“You were right in trying to stop me before,” admitted Pellinore. “And it was terrible of me to assault Dr. Walker over a trophy.”

“Wow Pell, that’s-”

“Besides, you were right,” said Pellinore. “I’ll be the greatest Monstrumologist in this society regardless!”

“...Pell.”

“YOU HEAR THAT, SIR RAT FACE?! I’M STILL BETTER THAN YOU!-”

John clamped a hand over his friend’s mouth.

“Save it for the next pre-congressional ball.”


	3. Guardians of the Beastie Bin

“I can’t believe you would have the audacity to ruin such a rare specimen!” said Pellinore bitterly as he and John made their way into the Beastie Bin.

“How was I supposed to know Tatzelwurms were so rare?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE LEARNING THIS, YOU IDIOT!”

“Well if I didn’t know it before, I certainly do now!”

Pellinore let out a huff of breath. “What did I do to deserve this? Is reincarnation real? Did I do something horrid in a past life?”

“You probably ate a baby or something,” John joked.

“That is disgusting and horrific.”

“Or maybe you died and are in purgatory, and I’m an imp that was sent to torment you?”

“If that’s the case,” said Pellinore, “then your father is probably Satan. If you’re okay with that.”

“I accepted that a long time ago,” said John. “And now we get to work for another demon, Adolphus!”

“God, don’t remind me. That man is going senile, I swear.”

The pair walked into the curator’s office, where he was filing some paperwork.

“Ah, if it isn’t the two troublemakers!” he said, without looking up.

“Once again, sir, we’re very sorry,” said Pellinore.

“Sorry that you’re such a crotchety old bastard…” John mumbled.

Pellinore elbowed him in the stomach.

“Well, now you pay the price for your foolishness!” said the old man. “You will scrub these floors until they shine, and when you’re done with that, you can sort the books in the library by color!”

“But that’s no fair!” said John.

“Of course it isn’t,” Adolphus sneered. “The only way your punishment would be fair is if that poor beast had been alive and ate you the second you even thought about touching it!”

“We’ll get started right away, sir,” Pellinore said hurriedly.

“You’d better, our I’ll crack your skulls like an egg!”

The old man waved his cane around threateningly.

Pellinore grabbed the cleaning supplies and pulled John out into the hallway before he could retort.

“And if you touch anything,” the man added, “you’ll wish you had never been born!”

“What an old asswipe,” spat John.

“Don’t forget you’re in the wrong here, John,” said Pellinore. “You did ruin that specimen, and you know how valuable it was.”

“It was a dragon, Pell! How could I not touch it!?”

“Tatzelwurms are not  _dragons_ , you idiot, they’re  _lizards_!”

“I don’t care, let’s just get this over with.”

The boys set to work begrudgingly, wasting most of their time messing around and groaning about the chores. Just as John was about to give up and suggest lying to the old man about finishing (the codger was practically blind, anyway, it would be easy to fool him in his opinion), they heard shouting down the hall.

Pellinore looked up, frowning.

“What’s going on?”

“Hopefully someone got fed up with the old bastard and started an uprising,” joked John.

“No… it sounds like he’s yelling at someone who’s…” Pellinore strained to hear, then suddenly gasped and jumped up.

“What is it, Pellie?! What is it, boy!?”

“I-I think someone is stealing!”

“What!?”

John stood up next to Pellinore, his heart pounding in his chest. “Why would someone want to steal from the Beastie Bin? All it has is dead shit and trinkets!”

“That’s exactly it, John!” said Pellinore. “This place would be the ultimate story for the papers! Think about it! There’s probably a whole team of reporters that have been assigned to uncover the society!”

John froze, then suddenly snapped his fingers.

“I have an idea!”

“John, your ideas are usually horrible, so I’m electing to ignore whatever hare brained scheme you just hatched up. Especially since you literally thought of it within five seconds.”

“No Pell, you don’t understand!”

He whipped around and grabbed Pellinore by the shoulders. Pellinore jumped at the sudden contact, but looked him in the eyes.

“Listen to me! If we chase down the thief and get whatever he took back, Adolphus will be so grateful that he’ll let us off the hook! No more playing Cinderella, we’re going to the fucking ball!”

Pellinore pushed John’s hands off gently. “That’s… that’s actually not a terrible idea. It’s feasible that Adolphus will at least let us off easier if we help him. Besides, I think my knees are bleeding.”

“YES! Come on, Pell!”

John ran up the hallway, Pellinore at his heels.

Adolphus was near the stairs, cursing loudly and banging his cane on them. Obviously, he was not able to catch the thief in time.

“Don’t worry, Adolphus, we’ll get him!” said John.

“What? Don’t be an idiot, boy! This has happened before, I can deal with it. Now get back to work!”

“Please sir, let us help!” pleaded Pellinore. “We are so insulted that someone would have the audacity to steal from you, and-”

Adolphus raised one of his bushy eyebrows.

“…Well,  _I_  am, at least.”

The man grumbled and cursed to himself once again, but relented.

“Fine! But if you boys don’t come back with the specimen, don’t bother coming back at all!”

“Sounds good to me!” said John.

“What did the thief look like?” asked Pellinore.

“A stupid boy, like you two. But… stupider.”

“Helpful!” said John in a mockingly cheerful tone.

Pellinore pinched his arm. “Anything specific?”

“He was wearing a tweed jacket and a stupid hat,” said Adolphus. “He looked like the reporter type. Who else would be interested in my collection?”

“Thank you sir, we’ll try our best to find him,” said Pellinore.

“You’d better, or I’ll strike you so hard your grandmothers will feel it!”

The two boys left the Monstrumological Society and ran into the busy street.

“God, how are we going to find him?” Pellinore wondered aloud.

“I don’t know, I say we just go and get lunch.”

“Wh- WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! Going after him was your idea, and it was actually a good one!”

“I know, but, Adolphus said to not bother coming back without the specimen!” John explained. “Following that logic, if we never get it, we don’t have to go back and do chores!”

“…John, you’re an asswipe.”

"Pelican, you’re irrational!"

Across the street, a man in a tweed jacket was carrying on a conversation with a taller, older man in a suit caught their attention.

“Hey wait, I know that man!” said John. “He and my father are friends.”

“Does he happen to work for the newspaper?” asked Pellinore.

“Yes, he’s the head editor, why-  _ohhhhh, I see_! …I don’t want to scrub floors anymore though.”

“Like you said before, you twit, if we help we might not have to!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll help,” John relented.

The pair ran across the street, weaving through the crowd until they caught up to the young man in the tweed jacket.

“Hello,” said John, wrapping a friendly arm around the man’s shoulders, “we believe you have something that doesn’t belong to you.”

The man froze, looking between both of them, until he finally focused on Pellinore.

“What?” he asked.

Pellinore looked down at his shoes as if he were guilty of something himself.

“You took something from the society, and we want it back.”

The man paused for a second, as if pondering his options. Then, without warning, he bolted.

The boys swore and ran after him, barely dodging all the busy people that crowded the sidewalk. Eventually, the man took a sharp turn, and Pellinore followed in suit. However, when he glanced behind him, John wasn’t there. Pellinore cursed his friend, but didn’t have the time to wonder about his sudden disappearance. He focused on the task at hand.

Eventually, Pellinore cornered the reporter in an alleyway. The man scrambled for an escape, but finding none, gave up and sat down on the ground. Pellinore walked over, furious.

“Give it back!”

“Please, understand,” the man panted. “I never meant to steal anything, that wasn’t my intention! I was just supposed to take pictures, but this… this was too good to pass up!”

The reporter held up a scale that had come from the Tatzelwurm, the only thing left of its body (John had somehow managed to set the entire thing on fire the moment Pellinore left the room).

Pellinore gasped and snatched it away.

“Do you realize how valuable this is?! This is from a nearly extinct species, it’s all we have left at the moment!”

“I didn’t know that… though, to be honest, even if I had I would’ve taken it anyway. It’s just so… orange! Orange is my favorite color, you know.”

“ _What is your problem_?!” cried Pellinore. “Why do you want to steal from scientists?!”

“Because your little society of ‘Monstrology’ - or whatever the Hell you call it - is the biggest mystery in local journalism right now! I did more than I was told to, yes, but it needed to be done!”

“Shame on you!” Pellinore snapped. “I don’t care how curious you are, you don’t take things that don’t belong to you! Especially not things that are so important as this!” He tucked the scale away in his pocket. “I won’t tell the police what you have done, but don’t expect to get so lucky next time!”

“We’ll keep looking into it, you know,” the man threatened. “We will discover your secrets!”

Pellinore, on impulse, slapped the young journalist, who looked up at him with disbelief… and new interest.

At that moment, John came over, holding a ratty looking thing in his hands that appeared to be a lump of dirty fabric.

“John! There you are! I was ready to-  _what on God’s green earth is that_?”

“It’s a dog!

“Seriously? You picked up a dog?!”

“Yes! Poor thing is likely a stray. Isn’t he cute?”

“John, I can smell the thing from here.”

“Okay, so perhaps he’s seen better days. But look at his cute little face!”

John held the dog closer. Pellinore could see the pink of its tongue, and two eyes that appeared to be looking in completely different directions.

“Agh, get that thing away from me! There’s no way it isn’t carrying at least one infection.”

“Come on, Pellinore!” John pleaded. “I thought you loved animals! Besides, I’ve already decided to keep him. His name is Schatzi!”

“As if the Helrungs would ever let you keep him!”

“Oh, trust me, with some vet care and a good grooming, this dog could melt the heart of even the most steadfast man’s man!”

Pellinore sighed and turned back to the reporter, but he was gone.

“Dammit John! He got away!”

“So? You got the specimen back, right? And now Adolphus will hate us less!”

Pellinore sat on the ground and put his head in his hands. John kneeled down next to him, holding the squirming dog out.

“Come on, Sour Grape. Give Schatzi a pet.”

“John-”

“It’ll make you feel better…”

“No, I’m fairly sure it won’t.”

“GIVE SCHATZI A PET!”

Pellinore sighed and looked back at the dog. The longer he looked at it, the more reasons he found  _not_  to pet it. But John was right, he did love animals, and dogs were no exception. Reluctantly, Pellinore reached out and gave the dog a brief scratch on the head. The dog wagged its tail and licked his wrist. Pellinore quickly retracted his hand.

“See? That wasn’t so bad!”

“Yes, but now I’m sure I have several diseases.”

“I’d say it’s worth it. This dog is our dog now. We’re a team! The Three Musketeers. We are… the guardians of the Beastie Bin!”

Pellinore smiled a little. “Whatever you say…. but we’re never bringing him there.”

“Of course not, Adolphus’s pure, concentrated hatred would be enough to cause the poor thing to drop dead.”


	4. An Existential Crisis

Summer evenings were always quite pleasant for Frau Helrung, and she enjoyed being outside if the weather was right. Today, however, it was pouring outside, and rumbles of thunder were starting to sound in the distance. She decided the best thing to do was wait the storm out with a nice hot cup of tea, so she went into the kitchen to make one. She hummed to herself happily as she put the kettle on, and happened to look out the window. There, through the haze of gray and pouring rain, she saw Pellinore laying on the ground. She cried out and nearly dropped her mug.

Von Helrung heard her cry and ran in, his face lined with concern.

“What is it, _lipchen_? Did you see the rat again?”

“No,” she replied, “Pellinore is laying outside in the rain!”

“What?”

Von Helrung moved to the window, craning his neck to see.

“Is he…?” asked Frau Helrung.

“I… I don’t think so….”

“Go out and check!”

Von Helrung nodded and went to the door, poking his head outside.

“Pellinore!” he called. “Please come inside! You might catch your death out there!”

Pellinore didn’t respond, meaning he was either asleep, couldn’t hear him, or was blatantly ignoring him.

Von Helrung cursed to himself quietly and pulled on his shoes and coat. He immediately became soaked once he stepped outside.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he approached Pellinore. “Are you alright? Can you move?”

Pellinore didn’t respond.

“Pellinore! Look at me! Is there too much water in your ears?”

He nudged the boy, who groaned in response.

“Please… leave me alone…”

“What’s wrong, _mein Fruend_?”

“Everything.”

“Hmm, everything? How is everything wrong?”

“Don’t be condescending.”

Von Helrung furrowed his eyebrows. “Conde…? Pellinore! Get up! You have come in, you’ll get sick!”

Pellinore didn’t respond. Von Helrung sighed, giving up. He went back inside to his near-frantic wife.

“He refuses to move, Katerina!”

“I don’t care!” said Frau Helrung. “He needs to come inside, we need to get him! I am worried for him, he gets sick with such ease!”

John came down into the kitchen then, craving some coffee. He found the Helrungs, one soaked and one close to tears, looking out the window at his friend.

“Um… would anyone care to explain?”

“Oh, Johnny!” Frau Helrung cried. “Would you please get Pellinore inside before he catches something?”

“Um… sure. I can try.”

“Oh, bless you!” she said, and gave him a fat kiss on the forehead.

John resisted the urge to wipe it off (the woman was just being nice, after all) and pulled on a coat.

He walked through the garden and over to Pell, who was staring at the sky, almost forlorn.

“Pell? The Helrungs are ready to have heart attacks over this. I’d say that you should come in.”

“I can’t handle life, John.”

“...Wait, what?”

“What’s the point of my existence, of trying anything? I’m insignificant. I’m kidding myself constantly, John! No one is going to remember me, my memory won’t matter! Not even my own father would care if I died, at this point. He hasn’t even talked to me since I was 12!”

He seemed close to crying at this point, and John sat down next to him.

“Whoa there, Pell. Don’t be ridiculous! Of course people will remember you, you’re relevant. You have a long life ahead of you. You’ll be an excellent Monstrumologist, make a good name for yourself. And even if you aren’t successful in that, I will remember you. You’re my best friend. You really think that doesn’t matter? Perhaps, to the universe, you are insignificant. But to me, the Helrungs, and everyone else who ever has, does, and will care for you? You matter.”

Pellinore smiled slightly. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Anyway, why are you wallowing in self pity on the ground outside as opposed to, say, safe and dry in your bed?”

“Because, John, I find this emotionally satisfying. Just… laying here and letting the rain beat down on me. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Try it.”

“Alright…”

John sprawled out on the ground next to Pellinore with a content sigh.

“See? It’s nice.”

“Yes, you’re right… you strange, strange little boy.”

Pellinore laughed and closed his eyes, looking as if he was melting into the grass beneath him.

John tried to follow and suit, feeling quite relaxed himself.

And whether it was because they had fallen asleep, couldn’t hear them, or were blatantly ignoring them, they didn’t seem to hear the Helrungs yelling at them and banging on the window.


	5. A Very Expensive Coat

Von Helrung was dissatisfied with their recent expedition; too much time and too many lives wasted. He had suspected that it was the return of the infamous beast of Gevaudan (or, of course, one of its descendants), when instead it was a simple pack of feral dogs. He eliminated the problem as promised, however, his disappointment could not be hidden. Most of the society firmly believed that the beast had merely been wild dogs or even a hyena or two that had been smuggled or escaped from a zoo. Since he heard about the legendary monster, he was determined to prove that it was a new species of wolf that they had never seen before, or perhaps an ancient species that wasn’t quite as extinct as they thought.

Along with his devastation, he also felt guilt. John had nearly been killed on the expedition. Not by the dogs, but by his own foolish actions. He had decided to climb up onto the roof of the house they were staying in order to do some “scouting”, and ended up sliding off, forcing him to be sent home early. Luckily, he merely got a few bruises and a broken ankle, and besides the fact he’d likely walk with a slight limp for the rest of his life, he got away from that relatively unscathed. Von Helrung blamed himself, though; how easily the boy could have been killed under his supervision! Pellinore, on the other hand, had found the whole thing rather hilarious, and suggested John should just cut the problem area off and get a peg leg. John actually fancied this idea, and it took much convincing from Frau Helrung for him to change his mind.

On top of this, von Helrung had received numerous angry letters and telegrams, most of them from Chanler family members and their associates. Their heir was no good to them dead or crippled. Most of them tolerated his hobby, seeing it as just a childish sport, and an unsurprising one considering that it did tend to be a rich man’s hobby (nearly every Monstrumologist in the society was very wealthy, or at least well-off). They figured he would eventually get bored with it as many others they knew who had dabbled in it did. What they would not tolerate was John being killed by this, though it was unfortunately likely. And John did not care. He didn’t take the science entirely seriously (or anything for that matter), but von Helrung knew that he was determined to become a Monstrumologist, just to screw over all the family members and friends that doubted his determination to not become his father.

While John was recovering, Pellinore was trying to get back into a normal sleep schedule. He had gotten used to staying awake for long hours, sometimes spanning into days, and Frau Helrung found this particularly worrisome. He had barely slept at all the previous night, so Frau Helrung told him to take a nap. After a few minutes of tossing and turning restlessly, Pellinore gave up and left his room. He found John at the banister, leaning against it for support as he ran his cane over the pegs.

“For the love of God, stop, that is completely obnoxious. Plus, you’ll ruin the paint.”

“Oh Pell,” said John in a tone of mock condescension, “the only obnoxious thing here is how much of a miniature adult you are.”

Pellinore huffed and swiped the cane away. “As I should be. I’m 16, and so are you. You need to start acting your age.”

John made a face. “That’s disgusting. That is the most disgusting thing you have ever said to me.”

Pellinore smiled a little at this. “I wish I could say it’s more disgusting than even  _one_  of the things you’ve said to  _me_."

“Oh, you’re just overly sensitive,” John said. He let go of the banister and tried to step forward, but his ankle was still too sore to put weight on, so he stumbled into Pellinore with a curse.

Pellinore laughed and pulled one of John’s arms around his shoulders for support before handing him back his cane.

“You have another few weeks to go before you can walk unassisted, John.”

“I know,” John said, turning his face towards Pellinore’s. “And I have to spend the whole time trapped in here. With you.”

“Oh, of all the horrid things!” Pellinore cried sarcastically. “It seems that there is a 10th circle of Hell, and you are now in it!”

John smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t call it  _Hell_ …”

Pellinore paused for a second, trying to figure out exactly what John meant by that, but his thoughts were interrupted by a loud and firm knock on the front door.

The two boys moved to the stairs to get a better look, but due to John’s injury and Pellinore’s antisocial tendencies, they had no intentions of going down to greet the visitor.

Frau Helrung came into view, and opened the door with her typical friendly flair, giggling as she shoved a barking Schatzi out of the way with her foot.

“Hello! Goo- oh…”

Standing in the doorway was a tall man in his 40s wearing a fashionable suit and a rather impressive wool coat. He shared the same hair and eyes as John, but his stark red locks were grey at the temples, and instead of soft and playful, his olive eyes were hard and cold.

“Is that your father?” whispered Pellinore.

“No, it’s Jesus Christ,” grumbled John. He pulled himself away from Pellinore and limped back down the hallway as fast as he could. Pellinore frowned and looked back over at the man in the doorway.

“Mr. Chanler, we… well, we weren’t expecting you! Not to say we aren’t happy to see you, but-”

He raised a hand, waving her off. “Do not worry about accommodations, Katerina, I merely wish to see my son.”

“Oh! I… don’t think he’s quite ready for visitors, but-”

John’s father stepped inside, shrugging his coat off and plopping it into Frau Helrung’s arms.

“I beg to differ,” said Mr. Chanler. “I believe he and I need to have a conversation.”

“Well, if you want to talk to him, I suppose I can’t stop you,” said Frau Helrung, an unfamiliar edge appearing in her tone. Pellinore was so used to the woman’s kindness that he could practically feel her distaste for the man before her radiating off her in toxic waves. She hung the man’s coat on the nearby coatrack.

“And I implore you to be careful with that coat,” said Mr. Chanler. “Lucinda brought it for me the other day for much less than it’s worth, and that was at 500 dollars.”

“I assure you that nothing will happen to your dear coat,” said Frau Helrung, who was clearly considering throwing the garment back at him and shoving him right back outside.  
Mr. Chanler nodded at her, and walked towards the stairs.

“Oh, and you may want to tighten your bun. You have hair all over your face.”

Frau Helrung’s expression immediately turned almost comically sour, and she blew a lock of hair from between her furrowed brows.

Pellinore was gripping the banister with white knuckles by this point. He could already tell the man was rude, that alone was enough to make Pellinore hate him. But this man had another element to him, something about him that made _Frau Helrung_ of all people loathe him. 

Mr. Chanler reached Pellinore, and looked him over, quirking an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you Alistair Warthrop’s son?”

“Um, yes sir…”

Pellinore tried his best to hold eye contact with the man, but it was a vain attempt.

“Hmm, I figured as much. You bear a striking resemblance to your mother.”

“Thank you, sir…”

“It’s a shame you’re wasting your time here, you’re probably a smart boy. You have far more potential than chasing demons during a pathetically short life.”

Pellinore looked up slowly, mustering up the courage to say something.

_Well at least I won’t be a miserable bastard like you!_

He bit his tongue, however. John’s father studied him a moment more before continuing down the hall. Somehow, he knew exactly where John’s room was, and entered silently. Immediately, there was a cry of protest from John, and an argument erupted no more that who seconds after the door was shut. Pellinore dashed over and pressed his ear to the door.

“You’re no good to me dead, you know!”

“Funny you should say that, because  _you’re_  no good to me  _alive_!”

“Imagine how much your mother and I worry for you! I have met men foolish enough to dabble in this business - if it can even be called that - and they all end up dead!”

“Well father, EVERYONE dies eventually, so I think when it happens is rather insignificant! And when I do die, it will be while I’m doing something I enjoy with someone I enjoy being with, instead of miserable at a desk married to a woman I hate and caring for children I was never committed to having, loathing the thought that I became EXACTLY like my least favorite person in the damned world!”

There was the sharp crack of skin on skin, and all was silent for a moment.

Pellinore jumped at the sound of Mr. Chanler’s voice, which had become much louder than before.

“You are such an ungrateful little brat! By God, I should pull you out of here and back to where you belong by the ear! Your mother was wrong, exploring this hobby has done you far more harm than good! I am going to go inform von Helrung that you will no longer be studying under him.”

“NO!” John cried. “I want to stay here, I want to learn Monstrumology! I promise I’ll be good, I promise I’ll stay safe-”

“ENOUGH! This is not something to be debated, it is my decision and that’s final!”

“I hate you…” John said, his voice quivering.

Mr. Chanler didn’t respond. He left the room, and Pellinore stepped away from the opening door.

John’s father studied him the same way he had before, this time with distaste lining his features.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

Pellinore didn’t respond, trying his damnedest to look the man in the eyes; mustering up as much stone cold hatred as he could.

“Unsurprising,” sighed Mr. Chanler. “You act like Margaret too. That’s unfortunate, she was quite a nasty witch.”

Pellinore felt as if he had just been struck.

John’s father turned and walked down the hall, and Pellinore was tempted to scream at him, throw things, slam him against the wall and give him a piece of his mind, tell him that his mother had been and always would be the best woman to ever grace the earth with her presence. But he did not. He just leaned into John’s room meekly, peering at the bed. John had curled up and pulled a pillow over his head, and he his sobs were so quiet that Pellinore could only tell he was crying by the heaving of his back and shoulders.

Now, if Mr. Chanler had not made that snide remark about his mother, Pellinore would have merely sat down next to John and tried his best to comfort him. But a cold, vindictive feeling was slowly moving through his chest. He wasn’t really like his mother; she was a loud, gregarious and sometimes violent woman that always spoke her mind, and he was much more soft-spoken and rarely let his anger get the best of him. But he felt that despite her flaws, his mother was a good woman, and to denounce her after her death was to denounce him, despite their differences in personality.

And he knew the best way to get back at Mr. Chanler was to do exactly what she would do.

He ran downstairs and peered into the kitchen. As he suspected, John’s father was in there, having a rather heated conversation with von Helrung and his wife. He had never seen the couple look so angry. He quickly turned away and ran over to the coatrack, Schatzi at his heels, excited by all the commotion. He shushed the yapping dog and pulled the coat off its hanger, dashing down into the basement with it. Schatzi had followed, but hesitated at the top of the narrow steps. Pellinore sighed and walked up, scooping up the dog and plopping him down on the floor next to the table. The dog immediately began to sniff around, probably having an absolute sensory overload. Pellinore frowned thoughtfully, then quickly had an idea. Von Helrung had a preserved specimen that he and John would practice with, and he quickly rubbed the coat over it before throwing it to the dog. Schatzi immediately pounced on it, chewing and tearing as Pellinore had hoped he would. He then went through all the bottles of chemicals von Helrung had, picking up the ones that were nearly empty and setting them on the table. When he was finished, he picked up the coat and managed to get it away from the dog after a brief tug-of-war. He immediately got a whiff of urine.

“Oh, good boy!” he cried, which made the dog even more excited. He threw the coat upon the table and poured all the chemicals over it, taking it outside when he was finished. He threw the coat upon the ground and pulled out the pack of matches he kept in his back pocket. He lit one and dropped it onto the soiled garment, and it immediately burst into a white-hot flame that burned its image into his eyes. He picked up Schatzi so he wouldn’t get burned and watched the fire. And he laughed. He didn’t know where it came from, but it was loud, and hard enough to bring tears to his eyes, as if he was laughing at the best joke he had ever heard. He stood there until the fire had completely consumed the coat, laughing for at least a minute more before composing himself and going back inside.

He entered just in time to catch Mr. Chanler leaving the kitchen, and once he saw Pellinore he froze in his tracks. Pellinore wasn’t sure why until he spoke up.

“What are you looking at me that way for?!”

Pellinore hadn’t even realized that there was a huge grin on his face, but the second he did, it started to hurt his cheeks.

“Where is my coat?!” he continued.

“I hung it up!” said Frau Helrung.

“I KNOW, but it’s not on the coatrack!”

“Check the backyard,” said Pellinore, swallowing back another fit of laughter.

Everyone looked at him for a moment before running outside, going around the back and stopping in their tracks at the pile of noxious smelling ash that had once been a very expensive coat.

The Helrungs were shocked, and slowly looked at each other before looking at Pellinore, the quiet and meek one, the studious and well-behaved child they loved, laughing so hard that he had begun to cough. Mr. Chanler’s face had become redder than his hair.

“You… you little… WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

“I sir,” said Pellinore as he composed himself, “am sending you Margaret’s warmest regards.”

John’s father was stunned into silence. The Helrungs once again looked at each other.

“Um… well, Herr Chanler,” said von Helrung apprehensively, “would you like me to send for your coach?”

Pellinore went inside and entered John’s room. His friend had stopped crying, and was now sitting up with his good leg propped up and his forehead pressed against his knee.

“Well,” he said without looking up, “I suppose I should start packing my things.”

“I don’t think so,” said Pellinore. “I think I gave your father the hint that we will not tolerate him or his opinions.”

“What do you- PELLINORE WHY ARE YOU SMILING LIKE THAT?!”

“I took his very expensive coat and set it on fire.”

“Wha-”

“I also let your dog urinate on it.”

John digested this for a moment, then laughed a little. “R-really? That doesn’t sound like you…”

“Perhaps not” said Pellinore, “but I will not tolerate a man who has the nerve to treat his only child like a burden and call a boy’s dead mother a ‘nasty witch’.”

John jumped up from the bed and stumbled over to Pellinore, wrapping his arms around him. He was laughing fully now, though a few stray tears still made their way down his cheeks.

“Pellinore Warthrop, have I ever told that you’re my most favorite person in the whole damn world?”

Pellinore smiled and nodded, hugging him back. 

“And you, John Chanler, are mine.”


	6. Down Through the Chimney

Before John started boarding at von Helrung’s house, he would sneak out of his own home nearly every night to see his friends, then climb back in through his bedroom window without his parents noticing a thing. Of course, by the time he was seventeen, John didn’t spend as much time with his old friends as he used to. He still enjoyed their company (more or less), but his work kept him busy and Pellinore tended to take up most of his time and attention. Which is why while he was walking to the Beastie Bin one day, his friends cornered him, knocked him around a bit, and demanded he go out with them on Tuesday night. John agreed, and explained away his bruises to Pellinore and the Helrungs with a simple shrug and a mumbled “I don’t know”.

He did sneak out the window and have a rather nice time (mostly they drank and poked a dead squirrel with a stick), but he had no means of getting back in. He tried climbing up the side of the house and using his window once again, but it had become jammed since he last used it. Either that or he had become far too incompetent to open it. Cursing, he clambered his way up to the roof, the risk of falling the last thing on his mind. Then suddenly, he got what he thought was a brilliant idea. He would use the chimney! He made his way over to it, and saw no smoke, so he figured it was safe to use. And since he was a fairly slender young man, it should have been an easy fit.

His feet were barely a foot from the floor when he got stuck.

“Dammit!’ John said in a hushed but harsh tone. He wiggled his free feet, but that didn’t particularly help him. He grunted and shifted in place, but barely moved an inch. It was if the damn thing had sprouted hands and taken up a vice grip on his arms.

After a few minutes of squirming and grumbling, he heard the all-too-familiar sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. He froze in place, listening for whom it was. The footsteps were barely audible, but he did hear the distinct sound of bare feet against the floor. He could only assume it was Pellinore, but didn’t want to take his chances. He was certain his friend would tell on him anyway, as that was just the type of person he happened to be. He heard clinking and rustling in the kitchen. He must have been getting a glass of water. John took the chance to try and wiggle free and dart upstairs before he was noticed, but merely ended up twisting his shoulder at an odd angle. He let out a sharp “ _Shit_!”.

This caught Pellinore’s attention, as he seemed to have the hearing of a bat, and his soft footsteps pattered over to the parlor.

“John?” he asked.

John didn’t know if Pellinore had seen his feet or not, but decided to respond either way.

“I’m not John! I’m Santa Claus!”

“Wha- _John why are you in the fucking chimney_?!”

“I told you, you silly, stupid boy! I’m not John! I’m Santa Claus.”

“John-”

“Merry Christmas!”

“It’s the middle of August!”

“...Christmas has come early this year!”

“For God’s sake, you idiot, what are you doing?”

“Delivering presents, of course! And calling Santa an idiot isn’t going to get you shit!”

“Boy Santa, I didn’t know you cursed. And why did you steal my friend's old fawn spats?”

“....He and I have similar tastes! Now go to bed!”

“You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not, I’m Santa!- yes.”

“You must be an assassin because you’re killing me oh so very slowly.”

“I was just trying to have a good time with my friends! Not that you’d understand.”

He heard something smack against the chimney, likely a book.

“Well? Are you just gonna stand there and throw things at me?”

“It’s rather tempting.”

Pellinore knelt to the floor and gave John’s ankle a tug.

“OW! Unhand Santa!”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

“I think I hurt my shoulder… but it’s not a problem, I have this! Go to bed! And if you tell von Helrung I’ll wring your neck like a wet towel.”

He could practically feel Pellinore’s eyes rolling.

“I’m waking them up, John.”

“NO!”

“You could suffocate!”

“As if you care.”

“I do care!”

“Oh.”

“What the hell do you want me to do?”

“Umm… use your weak spaghetti arms to break the bricks!”

“Or I could use one of the chisels in the basement.”

“Or explosives.”

“NO YOU WILL DIE.”

“Fine, the chisel then.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back.”

He heard Pellinore’s feet padding away.

And he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

But Pellinore didn’t return.

“What the hell, Pellinore!?” he cried after a few minutes. “Were you carried off by a large bat? Did someone stab you? Did a snake eat you? PELL!”

There was no response.

After about of hour of whining and struggling, he heard a door open, and a chorus of men’s voices entering the house. Within a minute, there was a loud chipping sound at the front of the chimney.

“PELL! What the devil were you doing, did you have to pick up a party of people to help break me out!?”

He heard Pellinore’s voice, distinct against the chatter of the other men. “As a matter of fact, I did. I got the firemen. Do you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to try and break you out all by myself?"

“Well...”

He didn’t hear the Helrungs come downstairs, but he could tell they were there by Katerina’s shriek.

“Ach, Johnny! Don’t worry, _mein lipschen_ , the brave men will get you out!”

“Oh, Pellinore, thank you!” he heard von Helrung chime in. “He ran all the way there, you know, John!”

“Actually, I walked.”

After half an hour, John was finally freed. He stumbled out, brushing all the soot and brick chips off his clothes. Pellinore was standing right in front of him, still in his pajamas, a small smile on his face.

“Well that was an ordeal,” John said breathily.

“Mmhmm. I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“I probably would have been if not for you, the Helrungs didn’t seem to hear me…” he looked over at the couple.

Von Helrung chuckled quietly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well I suppose my hearing is not what it used to be.”

“For me, everything is drowned out by his snores.” said Katerina.

The two laughed loudly, and Pellinore’s eyes once again rolled into the back of his head.

John watched him a smiled, an idea forming in his head.

“Here,” he said, wiping some soot on his friend’s cheek with the back of his hand.

“H-hey! What the hell!?” Pellinore said, rubbing it away.

“That’s your award for helping me.”

“Okay…”

“And this is for leaving me there for an hour.”

John clocked him in the shoulder.

“OW! For the love of- I should have let you suffocate.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Now give me a hug!”

“No no no no no…” Pellinore backed away, then turned and broke into a sprint.

“C’mon, Pelly-belly! Just one little hug!”

“NO JOHN, YOU’RE LIKE A CHIMNEY SWEEP'S BRUSH!”

John laughed hysterically and chased him upstairs.

Von Helrung smiled to himself as he watched them, taking his wife’s hand in his own.

Katerina chuckled. “They remind me of myself and my sister… hopefully they will be friends for longer than we were!”

“I certainly hope so, _schatzi_. I cannot think of any two people who go together better… besides ourselves, of course.”

The pair let out their synchronized belly laugh.


End file.
